


Of Hobbit Holes and Warm Tea

by Lidsworth



Series: Tea Cups [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Elrond needs closure, M/M, Maedhros is still suffering, Reborn in Valinor AU, Russingon, and Fingon tries to help, at least in Elrond's eyes, but ends up doing the exact opposite, tw for emotional roller coasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 07:11:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7967353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidsworth/pseuds/Lidsworth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been a week since his rebirth in Valinor, and Maedhros has yet to visit Elrond. Though if Maedhros is anything like his brother, then he will avoid Elrond until the Second Music. </p><p>Thus the half-elf takes it upon himself to visit his wayward foster-father before he has a chance to truly disappear. For there are things that Elrond has yet to forgive, and he would very much like to discuss these matters with Nelyafinwë. </p><p>If only Fingon would let him into the house, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Hobbit Holes and Warm Tea

**Author's Note:**

> This was an anon tumblr request that was supposed to be a drabble, but ended up being over 2000 words. It wasn't easy to write. However, I'm glad I got the request! It's truly wonderful and I enjoyed doing it. That said, I wanted to share it with my ao3 fans. 
> 
> This is my first real attempt at Russingon, so if you have any comments or concerns in regards to that, please let me know. As always, I'm my own beta, so there's bound to be mistakes. I'l apologize in advance for that. 
> 
> Also, if you want to discuss or want to request, hit me up on my tumblr -> inkstranger.tumblr.com

Maedhros was _truly_ Maglor’s brother.

For it had been well over a week since his rebirth, and Matimo had yet to make the journey to Elrond’s estate. Be it a deep shame solidified by years of dwelling in the Halls, or an irrational fear of rejection conjured by his own musings, the redheaded elf had not graced Elrond’s door step with his presence.

And it was _because_ he was the brother of Maglor that Elrond approached the situation not with anger, or resentment, but rather caution. Rebirth was never easy for _any_ elf (he had painfully recalled Glorfindel’s numerous relapses), let alone an elf who had turned the blade to his own kin.

When Elrond had put _that_ into perspective, after the initial shock of Maedhros refusing to visit him, the reluctance had made more sense. Maglor had done the same thing (and as a consequence, they had never spoken again. Why would Maedhros be any different).

Elrond had been a victim of the Kinslayings after all, and he and Maedhros’s relationship had not been as smooth nor parental as the one between he and Maglor—at least not at first. Perhaps during his stay in the  Halls, he had contemplated on his relation to Elrond and deeds done against his family.

And like his brother, he had avoided Elrond due to this.

Yet there were things that needed to be discussed between the two; things that Elrond had spent _years_ contemplating. Understanding Maedhros’s cowardice was one thing, but allowing the older elf’s personal feelings to determine the standing of their relationship was another.

Thus Elrond Peredhel taken it upon himself to make the long, lonely trek up towards Maedhros’s house on  the shores of Valinor.

 

It was a small place—a cottage actually, quite unbefitting of a former prince.  Though he supposed his time in death had waned his need for riches and fortresses—though it had been more of necessity during life, and not a want. It was welcoming, unlike the places they had lived in during Elrond’s childhood, and had reminded the half-elf vaguely of a hobbit hole. He chuckled at the thought of someone as tall as Maedhros living underneath a hill in such a small house.

The door was bright green; inviting and warm. All tension had evaporated at the site, though he held his breath as he knocked, drumming his knuckles lightly against the wood. Ironically, it was Maedhros who had taught him, unknowingly, that looks could be deceiving.

When the door swung upon, however, it was not Maedhros who had greeted Elrond at the door.  

Rather, it was his uncle by _many_ generations. Fingon. Elrond hid his childish jealousy behind a tense smile, and reminded himself once again of the situation at hand. Maedhros was simply not ready to meet him yet. He was not ready to meet anyone (though if he let him have his way, they would _never_ see each other) .

But Fingon—of course Fingon would be an exception. He _always_ was.

“Nephew,” Fingon greeted his unexpected guest quite awkwardly, as he stepped outside of the home and shut the door, “What brings you to my doorstep?”

“I wasn’t aware that it was _your_ doorstep, Fingon,” Elrond cared little for introductions or conversation with his least favorite uncle, “I came to speak with Maedhros. He is here, I know he is.”

“He is unwell.”

“He is afraid,” Elrond countered quickly, gently, “And I am here to ease his fears. I know you are…hesitant, and I know that you care for him. But know that I do as well, and let that calm you. I would not hurt him, Fingon. Never. For all he has done for me, I only wish to speak with him out of love, not out of spite or anger. You have had your chance to reconcile and with him, allow me the same, please. He is as much of your lover as he is my family, no matter the circumstances. He helped raise me and groomed me into the lord I am today.”

The argument was convincing, though Fingon was a hard elf to bargain with.

Elrond had never been overly fond of him, especially in regards to the eldest Feanorian (it had been _his_ meddling that had seen Maedhros half across Valinor, secluded from all interaction. Which, as a healer, Elrond deemed detrimental to his health. Without his interference, Elrond wondered whether or not Maedhros would have visited him). And ever before then, Maedhros had unintentionally slandered his cousin’s name in the eyes of a young Elros and Elrond when he had finally admitted to them that it had been he who had cut off his hand. The boys’ selective hearing had only picked up the part where Fingon had hurt him, and even with age and wisdom, Elrond had never been able to look past that.

“Fingon, please,” He would lower himself to begging just this once, if it meant being able to see Maedhros, “I would—“   
As if on que, the door behind him opened slowly, creaking loudly as the hinges turned.  

There stood Maedhros, tall as always, though thinner and paler. Not to mention, he had both hands.  He wore nothing in his red hair—not a crown or a diadem—and the clothing he sported was that of a commoner. With him, he carried a heavy demeanor, not unlike that which he carried in middle earth.

He still had much to do before he was healed.

“Fingon,” Elrond cringed as Maedhros spoke, for his voice croaked from limited use, “You do not need to protect me from the inevitable. He and I have much to discuss. Please, let him inside, or I will follow him outside.”

Fingon was reluctant to let Elrond into their small home, though he dreaded the idea of allowing Maedhros out as well—for his cousin was not ready for the outside world, not yet.

* * *

“You have a very good watchdog. I take it most visitors have not been all too kind?”  Elrond injected well intended humor into the air as Maedhros lead him to the small living room, though the way in which the elf’s shoulders tensed told Elrond that the harmless joke held a sad truth to it.

“The Teleri elves are not all too pleased that I am sharing the shore with them,” Maedhros admitted rather sadly, as he gestured towards the couch so Elrond could sit “They are quite vocal about it. I have been asked to move, though Fingon….he’s the reason I’m still able to live here.”

Elrond’s heart clenched, and he tried to swallow his guilt. Perhaps he had judged Fingon too hard. Was Elrond himself not a victim of the kinslayingss as well? Fingon knew this. He only reacted harshly due to his own experience with other reborn victims aside from Elrond. .

The half-elf took his seat on the couch, while Maedhros left quickly, though returned shortly with two cups of tea which he placed on the round table in front of Elrond. Then Maedhros took his seat on the chair opposite of Elrond, so that both elves faced one another.

“We have much to discuss,” Maedhros repeated as he leaned forward and spoke, grabbing the warm mug and nestling it between his fingers.

Elrond was glad that he went first, as it was quiet customary of him to do so in their youth. It was nice to see that Maedhros had remained somewhat the same, despite his time in the Halls. With permission granted, Elrond followed.

“You are correct in that, yet it does not have to be so, if only you answer my questions honestly,” he didn’t beat around the bush in the least, “Why have you not come to visit me? Certainly it is not shame. I have forgiven you, Elros and I did so ages ago. So that can’t be it.  And I must admit, I was quite offended when Fingon swept you away at your rebirth, even more so when you declined my invitation to dwell in my home. So I ask again, why you have not visited me.”

Maedhros’s sighed sadly, and with his free hand, ran his fingers through his hair. A silence hung over the couple, though with a groan, Maedhros spoke.

“Because I _am_ ashamed, Elrond,” he was blunt and simple,” and I was afraid. Afraid of meeting you, who has grown into a remarkable lord and whose wisdom has aged with time. I was terrified that you would have grown to hate me, hate me for all that I had done despite your forgiveness. As a child—a young adult even—you did not truly understand what had transpired, you had learned to love us simply because you had no other options.”

The mug was trembling in his hand, and it took all of his fingers to steady it.

“But as a lord, away from us, free of our lifestyle, I assumed you would have been given time to think. And certainly, you would have learned to despite me. My rebirth in Valinor has not been all I had wished for it to be. Already, the Teleri protest my presence on the coast, and my own uncle would rather I not live with him in Tirion, in fear of what reputation I would bring to the Noldor. Not even my cousin’s, save for Fingon, have vouched for me. I didn’t think I could handle your rejection, Elrond. A rejection I was most certain would come. For once, though, I’m glad to say that I was wrong.”

It was Elrond who stood quickly and closed the gap between them, right before removing Maedhros’s mug from his shaking hands and setting it back onto the table before it spilled. The redhead had dipped his gaze, avoiding Elrond’s eyes in exchange for the multi colored carpet.

He did not want his foster-son to see him weep.

So he was thankful when Elrond embraced him, for he buried his head into his son’s chest and cried.

“And there are so many I have hurt, _so_ many I have killed. And I have no idea where to start. Where to mend the wounds I have caused, how to fix those I have broken,” he sobbed into Elrond’s silken robes, “I would have rather stayed in the Halls of Mandos—“

“Do not say that!” Elrond chastised him harshly, stepping away and snaking his fingers underneath his chin. Bright blue eyes stared into dark green ones, “ _Do not say that._ ”

Being the only elf to have committed suicide came with its red flags. Such foreboding words had triggered a fear in Elrond that had not acted up since he was a child, fearing the day that he would come to wake Maedhros, only to find his body lifeless in bed.

“You have hurt others, yes, but now you have to chance to fix those hurts! It will not be easy, it never is! But do not wish for the coward’s way out! You owe it to the elves that you have hurt to remain in Valinor, you owe it to me stay! You left us alone, Elros and I. We missed you, I missed you!” Elrond confessed, “When I heard that you had taken your life, I felt abandoned, I felt forgotten. But I have come to understand why you did it, and I do not blame you. Yet it does not lessen the pain any less.”

Maedhros wanted to speak, but he could say nothing. For there was no excuse for what he did—no excuse for thrusting the twins into a world of war and pain, no excuse for leaving his brother to fade on the shore. Elrond was right. More harm would be done in his cowardice, more harm would be done if he hid away in Namo’s halls.

“But Ada, forgive yourself. You have always suffered more because of your past, you have always carried the weight of your family’s sins on your shoulders. You think you are evil, but you are not! For all your wrongs you sought to right them. Please, realize this. Then…then **we** will work with the others, we will speak to the Teleri and ask them what they will have you do for penance…”

Elrond babbled on and on, until his own eyes stung with tears and his voice hitched with emotion. So overwhelmed was he, that he could no longer stand, and knelt before his foster-father on the floor.

Maedhros’s words had ignited a fear long thought extinguished within the Peredhel, and that had been abandonment.

He had lost Maedhros once, and Malgor soon followed after, and then his brother, and his wife and his children. He would be damned if he allowed it to happen again. He had him here in Valinor, he would not forsake him.

“Why do you say we?” Maedhros had managed through his tears, “You have done nothing wrong Elrond.”   
  
“Because we are a family,” Elrond smiled sadly, “And we will not abandon one another—not again.”

Elrond had managed to stand now, somewhat shakily. He extended a hand towards his father, whose red eyes shone brighter than the red of his hair, yet hesitantly, he took Elrond’s hand into his own.

“Thank you, Elrond,” Maedhros whispered, “Thank you for coming.”

Elrond still smiled as he helped his father to his feet, “My offer stills stands, you are allowed to live with me.”

Maedhros considered it.

“I have to decline, Elrond,” he responded, “While I would love to hide away in your home, I need to establish my place here. Like you have said, I cannot run away from the Teleri, nor can I have Fingon fending them off. I think tomorrow, I will go confront them. Fing—“

“And I will go with you, of course,” Elrond was quick to add. Maedhros did not miss his how his tone darkened at the mention of Fingon, and despite himself, decided to play on it.

“Is Fingon considered a part of our family?” Chanced the red headed elf, “You two _are_ related anyway.”

“Was it not you father, who told me that blood does not make a family,” Elrond responded coolly, though Maedhros could see the inner conflict in his eyes, “He is as much of my uncle as Earendil is my father. On another note, I quite loved the tea you gave me, do you mind giving me spare leaves if you have them? I would love to have brew them at home. Perhaps even Celebrian, when she visits, would enjoy a drink with me as well.”   
  
Maedhros smiled at his son’s behavior, and for the first time since he had been in Valinor, sighed a sigh of relief. Things would not be easy, but he would not be going at them alone. Elrond and Fingon (because no matter how Elrond felt about him, Fidekano _was_ a part of the family) would see to it that he didn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> When I shared this on tumblr, a lot of people were shocked that Elrond and Fingon loathe each other, and as far as I know, i'm the only one to have portrayed them as such. I considered the exact opposite a while ago, but for various reasons, I believe that Elrond would dislike Fingon. 
> 
> If you follow my tumblr you already know why, but I plan to explain their relationship in the next installment! 
> 
> The interaction between Elrond and Maedhros wasn't easy. I mean I considered making it sweeter than it was, but Maedhros can't be let off the chain so easily, and Elrond still suffered because of his loss. Never really worked to much on their characterization, so i'm open to advice given that it's polite and actually constructive. 
> 
> And if you liked it, please let me know! This was one of the hardest things I've written and I would love some feedback.


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